


waiting game

by Stabbsworth



Category: Don't Starve (Video Game)
Genre: Gen, Touch Aversion, Touch-Averse Maxwell (Don't Starve), Wickerbottom is mentioned, can reasonably be read as maxwil if you squint
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-03
Updated: 2020-04-03
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:21:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23453950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stabbsworth/pseuds/Stabbsworth
Summary: Wilson's in the medical tent for a broken arm. Maxwell is worried.
Kudos: 34





	waiting game

Maxwell shifted outside the medical tent, uncertain for once.

At one point, Higgsbury had managed to get himself heavily injured during a process which he'd explained to Wickerbottom as the both of them being reckless against a Bearger. 

(It didn't entirely explain how he'd managed to get out of there without that much dirt on his suit, but, for lack of a better term, bullshitting has been his specialty for years now, and he managed to pass it off as him knowing when to quit. A little white lie.)

Not exactly uncommon for the one out of the both of them to be reckless, one was once king, the other had lived in the land for a very long time, but it was becoming rather vexing.

He couldn't see his friend that often, chores still had to be done while they lay rotting in a tent.

Maxwell was patient. But the recovery process took long. Too long. What if something had gotten infected?

He'd gingerly urged Wickerbottom to check that the bandages were clean.

It still took far too long. There was only so much blue mushrooms could do, and they were running out of those ones. Red mushrooms were… crap, to put it in Wilson's words. Best used as filler.

He tried to listen for any noises from the inside of the tent. Any whimpering, muttering.

There wasn't anything, much to his dismay.

He took a log out from his pocket, nearly dropping it, before gingerly placing it down. Not in front of the tent flap, that'd just be rude and unbecoming from someone of his status.

Seating himself, he continued to wait for… something. He wasn't entirely sure why he was waiting, but he still remained outside the tent, patiently.

.o0O0o.

Wilson didn't remember a lot from his time in the medical tent.

Most of it was spent high off his ass on blue mushrooms. Maybe there was a bit of mandrake in the mixture, or maybe there were red mushrooms to give it a more filling sensation in his stomach. Hell if he knew.

His shoulder was still a bit fucked, but the broken arm wasn't giving him as much pain as it was. That might be due to the mild healing effects of the blue shrooms. Flesh stitching itself back together was never the most pleasant sensation. He'd have to ask Maxwell why he'd made them like that.

He was pretty sure a swipe from the Bearger had caused that break, or, at least, that's what he'd been told. Apparently he'd been a bit too reckless in protecting Max.

He might've also fallen asleep on the guy's lap once or twice. Though, he didn't entirely remember that, he did remember being moved back onto the cot. And he remembered that Max tended to be touch-averse.

Whoops.

Wilson could reasonably use the excuse that he was utterly out of it on blue mushrooms, but what good would that do?

He ought to apologize about that one, really.

Maxwell wasn't even in here right now. The scientist huffed out a sigh, rolling onto his good side and pulling the blankets up to his shoulders, trying not to mess with the temporary sling too much.

He'd rather not risk messing up his arm even more, there was already a feeling that the bone won't heal in an exactly right fashion.

Wilson shifted again, if only to try and get comfortable, and shut his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> needs to be more healthy maxwil / max and wilson being friendly content.
> 
> i consider this to be more platonic than romantic, but eh, it can be read as maxwil if you squint.


End file.
